


you and I both know

by MissELY



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissELY/pseuds/MissELY
Summary: Hermione and Neville visit their parents, years apart.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 44
Kudos: 93
Collections: Dumbledore's Armada: Wheel of Death Flash Fiction Comp





	you and I both know

**Author's Note:**

> No beta we die like men. 
> 
> For the Wheel of Death DA Server Competition.
> 
> Title from the lyrics to Dearly Departed by Shakey Graves
> 
> I chose: Hermione Granger.
> 
> I got: Character: Neville Longbottom Trope: Memory Loss Theme: Circle of Life Quote: "Lord, what fools these mortals be." - Shakespeare

The halls of St. Mungo’s were entirely too familiar. Neville padded silently down a corridor, needing no directions, his destination well known. It was a path he had trod hundreds, thousands of times; out of the public fireplaces, through the mauve double doors, past security and reception, turn right where the tiles on the floor were slightly out of line, up to the Janus Thickey Ward. 

With every step something thick and cold settled deeper in his chest, weaving its way through his ribs, nestling behind his breastbone.

He knew what to expect. He always knew what to expect.

Alice Longbottom would probably be standing by a window, blank eyes staring at nothing. Frank Longbottom would be asleep, head tossing fitfully with what Neville prayed weren’t nightmares.

He had stopped hoping for a miracle before the age of 5. He had stopped hoping at all by 10.

Grandmother Longbottom had always held out hope though. It must have been painful, to see the shell of your only child wander around, look at you, but never actually see you. Maybe hope was all she had. But it seemed like torture, to hope so hard, for so long, and never see a glimmer of success.

The lack of recognition from either parent didn’t hurt anymore, but sometimes, when Neville would see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, or hell, even Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy doting on their children and grandchildren, there would be a pang of something. 

Was it possible to miss something you never had?

He gave his head a gentle shake as he approached the door labeled _Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom_.

The door to his parent’s room was a jar. Strange, maybe one of the Healers was in. He had thought that he had timed his visit right, but maybe the time for rounds had changed.

It was then that he heard the cadence of a familiar voice, reading lines he had read a hundred times to his parents.

The door was silent on its hinges as he swung it open further.

The cold weight in his chest evaporated, like it was never there. It left him feeling lighter and warmer than he had ever felt in this room.

Hermione was sitting in the visitor’s chair, a book hovering in front of her as she read. 

Her voice was pitched to be soothing, a far cry from the exasperated or impatient tones that it sometimes had, mostly when she was talking to particularly irritating co-workers or Ron Weasley.

Neville leaned against the door frame, his eyes wide with wonder. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide how his hands were shaking.

His mother was perched on the edge of his father’s bed, her gaze focused on the source of the sound. His father was awake, propped up on pillows and also watching Hermione.

Their eyes weren't focused on Hermione’s face, rather on the small being wrapped in a lavender blanket that Hermione cradled gently in her arms.

As she read, Hermione was rocking slowly back and forth, their infant daughter sound asleep in her arms.

His breath caught in his throat, and the sound made Hermione look up, her voice only stuttering slightly over the last sentence, “Lord, what fools these mortals be."

A wide smile grew on her lips and he entered further into the room, letting his arms drop from their crossed position. 

Neville noticed though that unlike other times, his parent’s eyes did not track his movements, but stayed on the small being in Hermione’s arms.

“I thought you couldn’t make it?” Hermione said, her voice staying soft. He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t want to wake up their daughter, Violet, or if it was because she didn’t want to break the calm that had enveloped the room.

“Professor Sprout wanted to teach today’s classes,” he said, one hand going to Violet’s head, caressing the downy soft baby hair there. His other hand went to the back of Hermione’s neck. He leaned down and pressed a kiss first to his daughter’s forehead and then to Hermione’s lips. Her lips were soft, and he lingered there a moment, savoring the closeness of their little family.

He pulled away, reluctantly. 

“Hullo Mum, Dad,” he said, smiling at his parents. Neither acknowledged his presence, but he was heartened that they at least didn’t react negatively to it either. Though their line of sight was focused on the baby, it was clear that there was still nothing behind their eyes. A sliver of the cold spiked through him, but the warmth of his wife right next to him chased the chill away quickly.

“I thought I would take Violet by to see Grandma and Grandpa Longbottom. They seemed to like it when we brought her around last time.” Hermione smiled at his parents, and then up at him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but again, his words got choked up somewhere, and all he could manage was a jerky nod.

“Violet was a little fussy, so I decided to read some. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ was all that was in the room. But Violet fell right asleep, and Alice and Frank seem to enjoy it as well.”

“It was Mum’s favorite. It’s lovely, thank you” Neville said, his voice thick.

The smile that Hermione gave him made his heart twist in a way that was exhilarating, pleasant, and warm, despite the fact that it seemed to happen around her nearly every day. She reached her hand out and laced her fingers together with his. The light caught off the engagement and wedding bands on her finger and he smoothed his thumb over the warm metal of the rings.

“Thank you, love.” He said, squeezing her hand, “thank you.”

Neville kept a hold of her hand through the rest of the visit. 

He didn’t let go even as they left, walking the familiar halls of St. Mungo's on their way out into the sunshine.

* * *

The beach was entirely unfamiliar. They had done their best to follow the instructions they had been given; go down the unmarked path to the left of the car park, if you walk past the bright pink house, you’ve gone too far. But in the end they got there.

It was beautiful. The sand was pristine and near white. The evening light caught off the waves as they walked along the beach. Violet swung from her parent’s hands, small enough so she could be supported as she skipped and stayed airborne as they lifted her.

The delighted laughter of her daughter brought a wide smile to Hermione’s face, Violet’s joy was infectious.

But there was something, an unpleasant sour note in the back of her throat that made her smile tense around the edges.

Hermione hesitated, pausing at the sight of an older couple, the reason her heart had been beating a mile a minute since they arrived at the beach. 

After so many years apart, she could see the similarities now. The man was nearly completely grey, but the wild curls on his head were distinctly familiar. The woman was the spitting image of Hermione around the eyes, almond shaped and rich brown, and mouth, her lower lip fuller than the top.

Something sharp twisted in her chest, scraping against an old wound that she thought had healed long ago.

Her sharp intake of breath must have given her away, because half a second later, Neville was there, having scooped Violet up to hold her on his hip, his free hand wrapping around Hermione’s waist to bring her in close.

The older couple caught sight of them and waved, diverting their path to come over.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise seeing you all again,” the woman, who had been Helen Granger up until about a decade before, but who was now Monica Wilkins.

Hermione tried to say something, anything, but she was tongue tied. She felt the heat behind her eyes that were a surefire sign of tears to come. Her hand went to where Neville held her at her waist and squeezed his wrist, looking for reassurance, for something that would keep her grounded in this moment.

Neville came to her rescue.

“The pleasure is ours Mrs. Wilkins. Thank you for the directions yesterday. You’re right, this beach is the best one we’ve seen so far. So lovely.”

The older woman, so much older than the last time Hermione had seen her, smiled at Neville, revealing a dimple in her right cheek, just like the one Hermione had. And Violet. “Oh it was nothing, happy to help. You and your wife and lovely daughter brought quite the smile to our faces. We never had children of our own you see, so being able to help, and tea yesterday was a lovely time.”

“Thank you for having us,” Hermione choked out, desperately hoping that these people, her parents, who had no recollection of her whatsoever, didn’t catch that there was anything wrong or hear the tears in her voice.

“Of course! You are so welcome. Well, we must be off, dogs at home to care for. We hope the rest of your trip goes well!” Monica leaned in to give a special wave to Violet, who returned it with a large smile. Wendell Wilkins placed his hand on his wife’s lower back, and smiled at the Longbottoms before leading Monica away.

Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard, she swore she could taste blood. 

She watched through eyes that grew blurry with tears as the couple picked their way down the beach, hand in hand.

To her shame, a distressed whine emerged from the back of her throat, and the tears that had been threatening for a while, spilled down her cheeks.

Neville pulled her in even closer, tucking her head under his chin. Violet’s little hand came up and patted Hermione’s head gently.

“No sad mama,” the toddler cooed, accidentally pulling at a curl.

Hermione let out a watery laugh. “Oh darling, I’m not sad. I’m just overwhelmed. Thank you for being so kind.”

She pulled away, running her palms under her eyes to brush off any tear tracks that remained.

“It’s enough to see them, to know they’re safe. Even though they won’t know Violet, or our little one on the way, this is enough.” She nodded firmly to herself, repeating the mantra she had developed since they began planning this trip.

Neville’s smile wasn’t pitying, or sad, or forced. It was just soft and understanding, and it made Hermione remember why she had fallen in love with him.

Hermione’s hand went to the bump on her abdomen and rubbed it slowly. Neville’s free hand joined hers and he leaned down to kiss the crown of her head.

“We will teach our children to love our parents well, even if they can’t love in return,” he said against her curls. Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle and nodded, her cheeks resting on his chest.

They stood there, listening to the crash of waves on the shore for a minute. It gave Hermione enough time to pull herself together.

She took a shaky breath and then plucked Violet out of her father’s hold, peppering kisses on the little girl’s face. Violet laughed merrily, and the smile returned to Hermione’s face. She set her daughter down and straightened to look at Neville.

“The little one is telling me that it’s dinner time,” she said, hand returning to her baby bump. “Why don’t we get something to eat and call it an early night. We have an early portkey home tomorrow.”

Neville nodded, a bright grin on his face.

Violet resumed her place between her parents, each holding one of her little hands in theirs, and the family retraced the unfamiliar path.


End file.
